A/N: yes, I'm back. Our Alternate Ending is practically finished now, meaning this book will now be my focus.

"Do you think they'll arrest me if I pull the trigger now?" I questioned, partly to myself and partly to Dawn as the magnification of a convex glass narrowed my vision down to the target's vulnerable chest.

Looking through the open sight scope of a gun was a chilling mixture of riveting and abhorrent. It was gut-wrenching but also sparked a daringness across my finger tips, holding the gun exterior. And I could feel my index finger twitch on the trigger, itching to pull it.

Through the scope, where the barrel of the gun was aimed, I could see Ash, unknowingly engrossed with a revolver, snapping in some ammunition. It was obvious he knew how to handle a gun.

"Quite possibly. But even if you were planning to shoot him right now, I'd suggest turning the safety off." Dawn stated, gently pulling the rifle down from my face and flicking a switch beside the trigger. I was not so informed about guns, however, willing to take my chances.

"How do you know so much about guns, anyways?" I quizzed, looking back at my blue haired friend who was admiring one of the more advanced snipers. It was a massive contraption that sent a prolonged shiver down my spine, and Dawn played with it like a babydoll.

"I don't know much. But there's a shooting range near my house. Easy way to fulfill my addiction." She replied, winking at me. My new friend fiddled with the scope, exchanging the red dot sight for a laser one.

Dawn and I had began making jokes about our 'addiction'. As if standing on the edge of a 50 story building was equivalent to throwing a pill down our throats or chugging a bottle of alcohol. Like the exhilaration was smoke in our lungs, nicotine in our veins.

"Alright, team XXA. Attention with me, please." A woman who clutched a clip board strode into the room. The first things I noticed were the three guns strapped to her belt, then the wildness of her ultramarine hair. She pressed her red spectacles further up the bridge of her nose before addressing us further. "I'm Miss Sophie and I will be teaching you how to use guns and firearms as apart of your agent training. The W.O.I.I requires all of its agents to be informed and capable with guns. They are weapons of the modern day, and even though you'll be training with other weapons that are just as competent with killing, there's no point only brining knifes to a gun fight."

"Oh yeah!" Gary pumped a shotgun in the air as I observed that he'd already equipped himself with every firearm possible, clipped to his waist and under his arms. Then again, we had been unknowingly lead to a room furnished with a table that brimmed with every automatic weapon thinkable. Childish behavior was expected. In fact, I was surprised no one had a shot wound yet.

"Gary, put the shot gun down." Miss Sophie sternly instructed Gary and he reluctantly did what he was told. "You'll all be learning to shoot with handguns. Typical household weapons you all should be vaguely familiar with. The one you'll be using is a 9 by 19 millimeter Walther. They're pretty standard, semi-automatic pistols. Which means you only get one shot each time you pull the trigger."

"Damn, I was really hoping to use this beauty of a sniper right here." Dawn stroked her toy, slightly irritated she'd have to be trading it for a much smaller weapon.

"Patience, Dawn. Eventually you'll learn how to master a sniper position. And if you excel at shooting, I'll even recommend you for extended lessons to become a sharpshooter. We like to have at least one on every team." Sophie hushed my new friend with sugarplum fantasies of treacherous firearms. The word 'sharpshooter' seemed to set alight a burning excitement within both Dawn and Gary.

"Miss, when can I become a sharpshooter?" Gary questioned with an keen grin.

"After two years of standard training and redundant progression." She replied, swiping the grin from his face in an instant. "Now, these are Walther CCPs, the most basic handgun the W. O. I. I. carries."

We were each tossed a handgun, identical to one another. It was much smaller than the rifle I had been experimenting with. Yet still, it was enough of a rush just holding such a thing. To know the world would cower at your feet simply because you were now capable of playing God.

"These are your own official pistols. Keep them clipped to your suits at all times as you never know when they might prove of use. An agent, even rookies, walking about without a weapon on their figure will be regarded as impotent and inexperienced. Most of you should be carrying your close combat weapons with you already. Anyways, we'll now be migrating to the indoor shooting range for a couple of rounds. Dawn, Ash, you've both shot guns before so you should be able to get started quite quickly where as Gary, Serena and Iris, I'll be teaching you the basics." She explained, before turning on the heel of her combat boots. Our team shared short glances afore following the woman out.

Just as I was about to exit, my frame was abruptly halted, swaying my center of balance. Fortunately, I steadied my footing just in time to have my head jerked to the side by a gun muzzle and feel the revolting slither of an arm around my waist. But it wasn't a comforting arm, no, this one was as solid as cell bars. The arm locked me against its owners figure, deterring any escape. My assaulter rammed the muzzle of his gun into my temple, earning a grunt of discomfort.

"I've got a gun to your head, Serena. What do you do?" The hoarse voice whispered in my ear, clearly amused. Ash. I sneered, squirming under his hold. But he was rigid, hinged with steel. As if on cue, the knives stashed around my person became a fraction heavier, like they were screaming at me. I had three strapped to a belt around my waist, one hidden against my thigh, one in my left boot and one up my right sleeve for easy access. Discreetly wriggling the blade up my sleeve into the palm of my hand, I surged straight for his thigh that cinched my leg in place. Tip pointed directly where most severe damage would occur.

"Oh, you and you're knives, Serena." Ash chuckled, clearly enjoying this little stunt. "But really? My leg? That's the best place you could think to place your blade?" I could practically feel his smirk on my hair, resting and enjoying. How badly I wished to slice it off. Completely irked, I thrust more pressure against the tip, pleased by the way Ash tensed.

"If you shoot me, and I go down, my blade will easily sever your flesh and nick your femoral artery. You'll be bleeding out on the flood next to me, dead in thirty seconds flat." I responded smugly, feeling a slight shake of hesitance in the muzzle against my skin. "If I go down, you go down with me."

"And how would you know such a thing?" He asked, making sure to graze his lips against my ear this time. I shuddered at the contact, feeling it ricochet through my body.

My mind burned with memories.

The worst things to ever flash against my eyelids. The kind of nightmares that I'd have on quiet nights, only to wake up and remember it was reality.

"I should stab you, right now! You'll be just as useful to me dead as you are alive! All I wanted was a wife who would have dinner on the table when I returned from work. After I payed the bills! I expected a wife who would make sure this place didn't look like such a pigsty!"

My father's repugnant voice rang through my ears. Soon, the bile would rise up my throat and the old scars would start to throb. Until the sharp stings were as prominent as the night they were given.

"You're not paying the bills anymore." My mother spat at his feet. "It's the money that was given to me after my father's death thats paying those bills."

Her innocent voice, still so strong even as her cheeks turned a darker shade of crimson from the freshly imposed slap. I wanted to be near her again, in our little apartment. Smelling her new sugary concoction for the bakery. I wanted to help her apply the makeup it took to hide her stubborn scars.

"Shut up! Shut up! I paid them for so long, it's about time you repay me! But I should! I should stab you regardless! I'll stab you in the femoral artery, make it look like an accident. You'll be dead in thirty seconds flat!"

All I did was sit and watch, half blind from strings of hot tears and bloody knees tucked into my chest. All I did was sit and watch as my father threatened to kill my mother. It was a nauseating, shrill cry against my skull.

"S-school." I responded with only meager hints of struggle. Ash didn't even notice. Satisfied, he finally let me go and I dropped the knife from his thigh. The others were long gone and we'd probably get lost trying to find the shooting range. But Ash wasn't at all bothered.

"You're good, Serena. You'd do fine on the streets." He complimented, in his own unique way. I'd make a fine killer, I suppose.

"You grew up on the streets?" I asked, rather surprised. Though, I shouldn't have been, it explained why he'd taken on thievery.

"Where did you think I leaned to use a gun?" He smirked, striding out of the room while I merely followed.

And then it suddenly occurred to me...had Ash killed before?

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As this chapter will cement, this will not be your everyday Amourshipping story and will therefore not be for everyone. It is brutal, but so is our world. Anyways, if you don't mind a little bit of gore or like it, I'm sure it'll still be worth the read.